it was all so unnecessaryAnd speaking of age,...
it was all so unnecessaryAnd speaking of age, there was another—
another old man who was no killer at allPerhaps, thought the false Jean Pierre Fontaine, he had
made a terrible mistakePerhaps, instead of coming to kill him, the other “old man” had come to
warn him!
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“Mon Dieu,” whispered the Frenchman“The old men of Paris, the Jackal’s army! Too many
questions!” Fontaine walked rapidly to the nurse’s bedroom door and opened itWith the swiftness
developed over a lifetime of practice, impaired only slightly by his years, he began methodically to
tear apart the woman’s room—suitcase, closet, clothes, pillows, mattress, bureau, dressing table,
writing desk A locked drawer in the desk—a locked drawer in the outer room Nothing mattered now! His woman was gone and there were too many questions!
A heavy lamp on the desk with a thick brass base—he picked it up, pulling out the cord, and
smashed it into the drawerAgain and again and again until the wood splintered, shattering top chanel bags the
recess that held the tiny vertical latchHe yanked the drawer open and stared in equal parts of
horror and comprehension at what he saw
Next to each other in a cushioned plastic case were two hypodermic needles, their vials filled
with an identical yellowish serumHe did not have to know the chemical compounds; there were
too many beyond his knowledge that would be effectiveLiquid death in the veins
Nor did he have to be told for whom they were intendedC?te à c?te dans le litTwo bodies
beside each other in bedHe and his woman in a pact of final deliveranceHow thoroughly had the
monseigneur thought everything out! Himself dead! One dead old man from the Jackal’s army of
old men had outwitted all the security procedures, killing and mutilating those dearest to Carlos’s
ultimate enemy, Jason BourneAnd, naturally, behind that brilliant manipulation was the Jackal
himself
Ce n’est pas le contrat! Myself, yes, but not my woman! You promised me!
The nurseThe angel not of mercy but of death! The man known on Tranquility replica santos cartier Isle as Jean
Pierre Fontaine walked as fast as he could into the other room
The huge silver racing craft with its two enormous engines crashed through the swells as often
above the waves as in themOn the short low bridge, John StJacques maneuvered the drug boat
through the dangerous reefs he knew by summoned memory, aided by the powerful searchlight that
lit up the turbulent waters, now twenty, now two hundred feet in front of the bowHe kept
screaming into his radio, the microphone weaving in front of his drenched face, hoping against all
logic to raise someone on Tranquility
He was within three miles of the island, a shrubbed volcanic intrusion on the water his
landmarkTranquility Isle was in kilometers much nearer Plymouth than to Blackburne Airport,
and if one knew the shoals, not much longer to reach in a drug boat than in a seaplane, which had to
bank east out of Blackburne to catch the prevailing west winds in order to land on the seaJohnny
was not sure why these calculations kept interfering with his seamaster de ville concentration except that somehow
they made him feel better, that he was doing the best he could— Damn it! Why was it always the
best he could do rather than simply the best? He couldn’t louse up anymore, not now, not tonight!
Christ, he owed everything to Mare and David! Maybe even more to the crazy bastard who was his
brother-in-law than to his own sisterDavid, wild-nuts David, a man he sometimes wondered if
Marie ever knew existed!
“You back off little Bro, I’ll take care of this
“You can’t, David, I did itI killed them!”
“I said ‘Back off ”
‘I asked for your help, not for you to be me!”
“But you see I am youI would have done the same thing and that makes me you in my eyes
“That’s crazy!”
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“It’s part of itSomeday I may teach you how to kill cleanly, in the dark In the meantime, listen
to the lawyers
“Suppose they lose?”
“I’ll get you out
“How?”
“I’ll kill again
“I can’t believe you! A teacher, a scholar—I don’t believe you, I don’t want to believe you—
you’re my lady dior bag sister’s husband
“Then don’t believe me, JohnnyAnd forget everything I’ve said, and never tell your sister I said
it
“It’s that other person inside of you, isn’t it?”
“You’re very dear to Marie
“That’s no answer! Here, now, you’re Bourne, aren’t you? Jason Bourne!”
“We’ll never, ever, discuss this conversation, JohnnyDo you understand me?”
No, he had never understood, thought StJacques, as the swirling winds and the cracks of
lightning seemed to envelop the boatEven when Marie and David appealed to his rapidly
disintegrating ego by suggesting he could build a new life for himself in the islandsSeed money,
they had said; build us a house and then see where you want to go from thereWithin limits, we’ll
back youWhy would they do that? Why did they?
It was not “they,” it was heJacques understood the other morning when he picked up the phone by the pool and
was told by an island pilot that someone had been asking questions at the airport about a woman
and two children
Someday I may teach you how to kill cleanly, in the chanel logo necklace da